


Greetings

by StringTheori



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Steve is a good boyfriend, brought on by tumblr, bucky is a liar, teen and up only for vague mentions of sex and bucky swearing, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StringTheori/pseuds/StringTheori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s not that Bucky wants to be a draft dodger.  He’s no coward. Sure, he doesn’t go out looking for fights like a certain someone seems to love but it doesn’t make him some cowering child hiding in the dark stairwells. Steve is the one of them that wants to serve in the military - his patriotic duty or something equally high ended and moral."</p><p>Brought on by a post on tumblr which discussed how Bucky was probably conscripted and lied about it. This is my response.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greetings

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and written in an hour. I am so sorry ;;
> 
> This was brought on by a tumblr post and I couldn't get it out of my head. I've only seen the movies and read some fics so I apologize if I get some things wrong.

It’s not that Bucky wants to be a draft dodger.

He’s no coward. Sure, he doesn’t go out looking for fights like a certain someone seems to love but it doesn’t make him some cowering child hiding in the dark stairwells. Steve is the one of them that wants to serve in the military - his patriotic duty or something equally high ended and moral.

Bucky, on the other hand, wants to serve _himself_. Himself and Steve at least. Going off to war and leaving the little punk behind didn’t help a single thing. They aren’t married, Steve won’t get the bare scraping of government salary. They barely survive a it is and that’s with Bucky pulling in nearly as much in two weeks as he will in a month for the military.

New York gets so cold and they have no heat.

At least Bucky is leaving him in the middle of the summer where his asthma attacks only happen due to the thick air and stop quicker. Steve gets sick less when it’s warm. The conscription is only for a year (or is it? Bucky can’t remember). Steve is strong, sort of, mentally and emotionally. He will be okay.

That doesn’t make the cheerful looking slip of paper in Buckys hands any easier to stand.

‘GREETINGS,’ it says in large blocky letters. Even Bucky can read it, the words small and to the point though they jumble in a confusing mass of ‘you will die’. _Greetings_. The ink blurs as tears burn his eyes and a thick tight knot of despair threatens to choke him.

Bucky doesn’t cry. He _will not_ cry. Steve is inside, likely asleep, it’s late and the note isn’t stained yet with the rain outside. Someone must have pinned it to the door.

Fucking mail. Fucking landlord looking through their fucking post and --

He crumples the thick paper and shoves it into his pocket. The force of the movement nearly tears the threadbare fabric and Bucky can’t even care. He’s too busy clearing his throat and lifting his chin to give a whit to his pants and pocket and fuck _fuck_ he isn’t allowed to look sad for this.

Bucky pushes the door open and steps inside.

There is Steve on the bed, sketchbook in his lap and a worn nub of charcoal in his hand. From the stains on his fingertips, Bucky guesses he’s been at it for a while, lost in his own world of lines and shadows.

“I have food,” Steve says without looking up. Bucky opens his mouth to say something. The skinny blond stops him with a glance and a small smile. “Though it might be poisoned. Mrs. Roberts came by to give it to me about an hour ago.”

“Must be poison.” Bucky toes off his boots and closes the door behind him. His socks stick to his feet, damp in the New York summer, and his heel shows through one of them. They go to the side in a wet heap. Steve makes a face. “Figured you’d be sleeping, kid.”

Steve looks to the door and raises an eyebrow. “Why? Did you bring a lady with you?”

Bucky falters. He looks to their small wobbly table and the dented covered pot on it. His brain is searching for words, something clever and smartass to go toe-to-toe with Steve. “Was going to,” he says in those two steps it takes to get to the table and lift the thin cloth. “But I saw I had soup instead.”

“Stew. She was very adamant about the difference.” Steve shuffles behind him and their bed creaks. Bucky tips his chin down when he feels Steves hands press to the muscles of his back. He’s tense and Steve is careful in his movements. Fingers spread and slide around Buckys middle to wrap around him in an intimate embrace. Steve presses his forehead between Bucky’s shoulders and sighs as much as his damaged lungs lets him. “Usually you comment about me looking better in a dress then any dame.”

“You refuse to put on a dress and let me figure that out.” Bucky sounds weak. He hates that. He hates this. “Pretty sure I can get you some nylons so you don’t have to draw them on with that charcoal. I know what you do when I’m at work.”

Steve snorts. “Like I’d waste charcoal like that.”

Bucky covers Steves bony hands with his own. They hide his paler skin from view completely until Bucky threads their fingers together, his thumbs at the steady beat of Steve pulse near the base of his palms.

“Buck.”

The quiet murmur undoes him. Bucky breathe deep and he rattles like Steve in the middle of an attack.

“I did something stupid, Steve-o.”

“Flirting with some other guys best girl?”

“Don’t be funny right now.” Bucky squeezes his hands and, oh God, his voice shakes. It shakes. “You know it’s only you. _Only you_ , Steve, always, ‘till the end of it. No one else, you idiot.”

Steve says nothing. He kisses Buckys back instead, just once, and leans closer in way of apology. Bucky feels him nod and tries to concentrate instead of the thick garlic scent drifting from the stew.

“I enlisted.” Steve goes still behind him, every frail muscle in his body tense. Bucky clears his throat and lets the lies spill out, desperate, quick and low. “You’re always trying and want to help so much an, and I’m here and I can and it’s not like I’ll leave you without, Steve. I’ll have them send the money here so you’ll have that at least and the war’ll be over soon, I can be back before winter if we fight hard enough. Works been off lately and this way it’ll be a steady sort of pay, though, it’s not - it won’t be as much and at least it’ll be one less mouth to feed and Mrs. Roberts might take pity on your pretty face more but it was stupid, I know it’s stupid, I shouldn’t have.”

Silence from Steve hurts. Bucky breathes hard to control the rapidly overpowering knowledge that he is about to get Steves icy disappointment and fear.

“Promise you’ll come back.”

Steve really needs to stop saying things Bucky never expects. ‘I’m okay’ when he was eight and his nose broken from a fight with some bullies, at fifteen when he tells Bucky he loves him, at nineteen when they move in together and he goes on some rambling apology for the sketchbook full of Bucky in all his ways. Bucky tries to fathom ‘promise you’ll come back’ as something Steve actually say and he turns to face Steve.

He misses the warm of his hands already. Steve drops his hold to Bucky’s hips, his bright eyes clear and face serene. Bucky cups Steves cheeks and strokes his thumb over cheekbones much too strong for such a small guy. He tries to say “That’s not the thing I’m sorry about” but only chokes out two of the words. Bucky isn’t sure which ones.

“And try to keep what smarts you have when you come back. Your pretty face only gets you so far with me, Barnes.” Steve squeezes Buckys hips. “I’m proud of you. Kinda jealous. Mostly proud. You need to come back to me, Buck.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “ _Yeah_ , Steve, Jesus. I can’t go falling to Hell without you yelling at me for it. You’re _why_ I’m fighting. Protecting you is my - it’s why I do anything.”

“You’re an idiot.” Buckys heart hurts at the fondness that drenches each word. Steve might try to say something else and it will be too much. Bucky leans down and kisses him to stem off any words - because he wants to and he loves Steve. Steve hums in satisfaction before he curls into the kiss and pulls at Buckys tucked in shirt. Steve murmurs “Promise me?” against Bucky’s lips seconds before his stomach meets the charcoal-smudged fingers.

“Promise. I’ll remember and come back, I promise. For you.”

It’s the right answer. Steve smiles, wide and warm, and he kisses Bucky again.

 

\-----

 

Bucky throws the GREETINGS away afterwards, Steve asleep and naked in their bed.

He still goes to the conscription office the next day. Bucky Barnes isn’t a coward.

 

 


End file.
